


The Perils of Accepting Flower Crowns From a Stranger

by SecretMaker



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Flower Crowns, M/M, Mutual Pining, Royalty AU, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 06:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9422489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretMaker/pseuds/SecretMaker
Summary: Prince Kentarou of Nierva and Prince Yuuji of Theun Dral are both just trying to do their duty, solidifying relationships with the other kingdoms in the region. But when a ceremony in one of those kingdoms makes the relations a little too solid, they have to find a way to escape a fate they do not want - without inciting an all-out war.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ryekamasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryekamasaki/gifts).



> A birthday present for the light of my life, my sun moon and stars, [Ry](matsukawa---issei.tumblr.com)

Kentarou knew how they all saw him. The recalcitrant prince, shame of a nation of intellectuals and genteel, well-spoken people. He was the barbarian, the brute born with a club in hand, ready to undo centuries of careful diplomacy and peace.

 

It was why they had sent him with not one, but three advisers.

 

Kentarou sat across from them now, all squeezed into one bench in the carriage while he sprawled across the other. It served them right, he thought, even while he knew that if Iwaizumi were to lever himself out of his position between Yahaba and Akaashi and claim the empty seat, Kentarou would let him. As it was, Iwaizumi seemed content to let him scowl at the window in peace.

 

Yahaba, however, had other plans.

 

“When you arrive in this next village, it is very important that you do not speak to the headman until he finishes ceremonially blessing you. There will be a brief toast to your name and to the friendship between our kingdoms, and the you are to thank him according to the script I wrote out for you this morning. Once that is done-”

 

“Are you finished?” Kentarou growled, turning his head just enough to glare lazily at Yahaba.

 

“Your highness,” Iwaizumi warned. Kentarou grunted and went back to staring out the window.

 

Yahaba lectured him all the rest of the way into the village, with occasional additions from Akaashi that Kentarou mostly tuned out. The carriage trundled to a stop in the village green as the sun was setting, and Akaashi dropped the window open and peered out. He reeled back with a look of disgust on his face as the captain of Kentarou’s personal guard pulled his horse up alongside them. He grinned down through the window, waggling his eyebrows salaciously at the passengers. Iwaizumi cleared his throat, rolling his eyes. The captain grinned wider, then looked up, opening his mouth to say something obnoxious. He stopped short, his expression falling.

 

“We may have a problem,” he said.

 

“Oikawa?” asked Iwaizumi, sitting forward. Oikawa shook his head.

 

“Stay in the carriage,” he muttered. He looked at Iwaizumi and something serious and unspoken passed between them. Then Oikawa nodded and spurred his horse onward.

 

Kentarou didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to attack the royal carriage when it was surrounded by the entire guard, but there was always a chance. Nierva was small, known more for its thinkers than its fighters. It would not be shocking for someone to attack thinking that they wouldn’t be able to fight back. Kentarou eyed his advisors, dragging his thumb along the pommel of his dagger tucked under his cloak. Each of them were excellent fighters in their own right, at Kentarou’s insistence. He was glad now that he had thrown a fit over the idea of advisers who couldn’t hold their own against him in a fight. It had seemed childish to everyone at the time, but now…

 

Oikawa reappeared at the window, his shoulders still tense but his face less worried. “Just a little mixup,” he said cheerily, even as his eyes promised poison and slaughter later. “It seems Nierva was not the only kingdom in the area that scheduled for a crown prince to stop by on tour today.”

 

“Who is it?” asked Kentarou.

 

“Theun Dral, your highness,” Oikawa answered. “They occupy the land between Keras and the sea.”

 

“I know where Theun Dral is,” Kentarou snapped. “Why is their prince here?”

 

“Same reason you’re here, probably,” Yahaba said. “With all the wars lately, we can’t be the only kingdom hoping to establish peace before more fighting can break out.” He said it like he was explaining to a child. Kentarou shot him a glare, but decided against starting an actual fight just then. He simply rolled his eyes and reached for the carriage door, ignoring Yahaba’s grumbles about protocol as he climbed out.

 

Pocleal was a tiny little kingdom, more a principality than anything, and this was the largest of its cities other than the capital. A wide square stretched around them, more a green edged in mid-sized stone buildings than anything else. A stage had been erected at one end, where the a man Kentarou could only assume was the headman stood in his finery, surrounded by a clump of wizened villagers in holiday best. Standing near the stage was a boy of about Kentarou’s age, all golden hair and bright eyes, bits of jewelry glinting here and there on his face and body. He watched Kentarou with a curious look on his face.

 

“Remember not to say anything until the blessing ceremony is finished,” Yahaba whispered as he piled out of the carriage. Kentarou didn’t acknowledge him as he straightened his shoulders and strode across the green, Iwaizumi falling into step at one elbow and Oikawa at the other. He reached the stage and stood at the base of the stairs, eyes on the headman while he pretended not to watch the other prince out of the corner of his eye.

 

He was roughly Kentarou’s height, with broad shoulders and narrow limbs and waist. His hair was golden and tousled, shave close to his skull on the sides and the back, and he had a clear, friendly face. Kentarou did not like him.

 

“Welcome, Princes Kentarou and Yuuji, of Nierva and Teun Dral. We humbly give thanks to you both for blessing our city with your presence on this wondrous day.” The headman’s words snapped Kentarou out of his thoughts, and he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. Yahaba would be so proud. A pair of girls, no older than ten, approached the princes. They each held a wreath of wildflowers, which they held out to the princes. The other prince went to place the wreath on his head, but a cough stopped him. One of the girls shook her head and nodded toward Kentarou, then back toward the other prince. Kentarou turned and held his flowers out to the other prince, who bowed ever so slightly to let Kentarou settle it on his head. Kentarou bent enough for the other prince to crown him as well, feeling like an utter fool. He straightened and watched as the headman lifted his hands and face heavenward and started speaking in some language that Kentarou didn’t recognize.

 

He took the moment to steal a glance at the other prince, and immediately wished he hadn’t. The prince was looking at him as well, all big, curious brown eyes that crinkled slightly at the edges and bright hair spilling around the wreath of flowers. Kentarou tore his eyes away to look at the headman again, who smiled and accepted a goblet from one of the elders on the stage. He gestured to Kentarou and the other prince to approach, beaming when they did.

 

“Drink,” he said, holding the goblet to Kentarou, “and may your heart be light.” Kentarou accepted the goblet, tipping it back to swallow a mouthful of sweet wine. He returned it to the headman, who turned to the other prince, saying, “Drink, and may your life be blessed.” The prince drank and a great cheer went up around the square. The headman handed off the goblet and bowed to the princes, gesturing for them to face the crowd. As they did, another cheer in the same foreign language rang out, and music began to play.

 

The crowd swelled forward, villagers grabbing the princes by the hands and the arms and dragging them into the green. Kentarou found himself pulled into an elaborate circle dance, his arms caught around the shoulders of two village women, directly across from the other prince. He thought about forcing his way out of it, but he felt a familiar glare locked on him and looked up.

 

It was Akaashi, some ways away from him, staring him down. His glare was so similar to Yahaba’s, so full of the same self-assurance and utter lack of mercy that it usually had Kentarou determined to disobey. But behind Akaashi was Iwaizumi, giving him the same warning look, and really, Kentarou didn’t want to offend anyone on this visit. Yahaba may not have believed it, but Kentarou truly was trying to make a good impression on the neighboring kingdoms. So he let himself be swept away in the dance, clumsily following the lead of the women on either side of him and ignoring the bell-like laughter of the other prince.

 

-

 

Yuuji was having the time of his life. He had not expected much from this stop, but already he had been given wine and a flower crown and pulled into a dance that set his heart racing and his spirit soaring. The other prince, with his oddly-dyed hair and his scowl, only made Yuuji feel more alive in comparison.

 

When the first of the dances was done and everyone in the village was cheering, Daichi grabbed Yuuji by the arm and pulled him to one side.

 

“Do me a favor and don’t get too carried away tonight,” he said low in Yuuji’s ear. “Remember, we don’t know these people’s customs well and it might-”

 

“Daichi,” Yuuji interrupted, planting a hand on either of his adviser’s shoulders. “Relax. Drink some wine. Dance with someone. Try not to be all stuffy and boring for one night.”

 

“You’re going to get us all into a lot of trouble one day, I hope you realize that,” Daichi grumbled. Yuuji grinned at him and followed the village elder who was leading him, all smiles and courtesy, to the table at the had of the feast. He was sat next to the other prince, and another cheer went up. The dancing continued on the green in front of them, but for a moment, Yuuji let himself be distracted by the feast. Torches were being lit around the square, and the table in front of him was piled high with delicacies of every flavor. He waited just long enough to see the headman and the other elders at the table serving themselves, then reached out to load his plate with food. As he reached for a platter of summer squash, his hand collided with the other prince’s.

 

“Oh, sorry,” he said, blinking at the boy next to him. “You go ahead. “ The prince’s scowl deepened slightly, but he muttered his thanks regardless. Yuuji waited a moment, drowning in the awkward tension, then said, “I don’t think we were ever introduced. I’m Terushima Yuuji, of Theun Dral.” For a moment it seemed like the prince wasn’t going to answer.

 

“Kyoutani Kentarou, of Nierva,” he sad at last. There was color on his cheeks, difficult to make out in the fading twilight and the flickering of the torches. Yuuji was fascinated by it.

 

“I’ve never been to Nierva,” Yuuji said. “I hear it’s a great place.” Kyoutani stared at him, and Yuuji wondered if he had somehow put his foot in his mouth again. Then the color deepened and Kyoutani looked down.

 

“It is,” he said quietly. Yuuji bit back a sigh and reached for the cup in front of him. It was filled with the same sweet wine that the headman had offered him and Kyoutani, and Yuuji drank it eagerly. Vaguely hoping he didn’t seem rude, Yuuji turned to speak to the woman on his right, a loud matron who told him rapid-fire jokes in an accent that only got thicker with time and more wine. Yuuji wondered vaguely how much the two of them had gone through when she gasped suddenly at the start of a new song and jumped up to dance. Yuuji watched her with a smile, leaning back in his seat.

 

“You’re good at this,” said Kyoutani. Yuuji didn’t startle, not visibly, but it was a close thing. He turned to find Kyoutani watching him with that scowl still in place, but softer now.

 

“Good at what?” Yuuji asked. The scowl hardened slightly, Kyoutani’s nose crinkling in a way that was frankly adorable.

 

“All this,” Kyoutani said, waving a hand. “Talking to people, making them like you.” Yuuji smiled.

 

“I’ll tell you a secret?” he offered. Kyoutani looked at once suspicious and intrigued, and Yuuji found himself smiling wider. “I absolutely hate this,” he said. “The talking to people, the making them like me, all of it. I’d much rather have been born a soldier or something.”

 

“Anything but a prince,” Kyoutani agreed. His scowl softened so much that Yuuji almost thought that he was could have been smiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Daichi tripping over his own feet as he danced with a little village girl, Suga laughing nearby. He leaned in close so that he could whisper conspiratorially to Kyoutani.

 

“Let’s break all the rules tonight,” he said. “Let’s not be princes.” Maybe it was the wine and the way it made Yuuji feel fuzzy all the way to his fingertips. Maybe it was the music and the way it made Yuuji’s heart race to its beat. Maybe it was the way the torchlight glinted in Kyoutani’s eyes, the way his flower crown had slipped to one side, the way he was almost smiling and it made Yuuji want to be foolish. But he stood up and held his hand out to Kyoutani, an offering.

 

Kyoutani hesitated, glancing around. Then with a glance up at Yuuji, he accepted.

 

They tumbled into the dance on a wave of laughter that made Yuuji’s spirit sing. He planted a hand on Kyoutani’s waist and laced their opposite fingers together, taking off along the thread of music before Kyoutani could protest. They spun and skipped and flew along, and all at once a real, genuine smile broke out over Kyoutani’s face. Yuuji nearly tripped over his own feet at the sight of it, missing several beats before he recovered.

 

“You have a nice laugh,” he half-shouted over the sound of the instruments. Kyoutani turned red, but his smile didn’t entirely fade so Yuuji counted it a victory. The song changed and Yuuji let Kyoutani pull them along to the new rhythm.

 

He couldn’t say how long he had been dancing. For all he knew, this night was the only one to ever exist, and everything before that had been nothing more than a dream. There was only the wine singing in his veins and the music pulsing in his heart and Kyoutani, laughing and stumbling and dancing in his arms. When he could hardly breathe anymore from the heady pace, he and Kyoutani returned to the head table where they collapsed into their chairs with laughter.

 

“What’s the ocean like?” Kyoutani asked suddenly. Yuuji stared at him for a moment.

 

“You’ve never seen the ocean?” he asked. Kyoutani scowled at him.

 

“Nierva is landlocked,” he said. Yuuji shrugged.

 

“Have you ever seen a big open grassland?” he asked. Kyoutani nodded. “The water is kind of like the grass. It moves in the same way. But it’s endless. And the _sound_ , like no other force on the earth. Like the heartbeat of a giant. All the movement and the noise and the wind, smelling of salt and freedom. It’s not something you can really describe, I guess. You just have to see it for yourself.”

 

“Sounds romantic.” Kyoutani looked disgusted at the concept. Yuuji snorted.

 

“It is and it isn’t,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong, the sea will swallow you whole if you’re not prepared for it. It’s stronger than any man.”

 

“My mother used to say that about the mountain,” Kyoutani said. “She’d tell me stories of how men would climb it in winter to prove their strength, and it would send them back broken, if it sent them back at all. I didn’t believe her, until I tried to climb it when I was sixteen.”

 

“What happened?” Yuuji asked.

 

“Met a wolf,” Kyoutani replied. “It didn’t attack or anything, but it wasn’t happy about me being on its territory.” He grinned, a nostalgic thing that spread across his whole face. “I thought she was going to be so angry with me when I got back. But she let me go without mentioning it. I think she knew how scared I was. ‘Course, Yahaba didn’t let me hear the end of it for two weeks.”

 

“Yahaba?” Yuuji asked. Kyoutani made a face.

 

“My adviser,” he said. “Pompous little fluff who thinks he runs the world.” He said it with a fondness to his voice that made Yuuji smile. Before he could answer, there was a swell of music and the dancers all came to a halt. The headman stood and clapped his hands together.

 

“My princes,” he said in a loud voice, meant more for the assembly than for Yuuji and Kyoutani. “As the night draws to its close we invite you to take your rest in my own home.” There was something about the way he said it that should have made Yuuji pause, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to analyze it. He glanced at Daichi, only to find him passed out while Suga chatted with a pair of blushing village men. With a mental shrug, Yuuji stood, and Kyoutani mirrored him.

 

He wasn’t sure how it happened. One minute, he and Kyoutani were walking along behind the headman, and the next, there was a woman pulling his jacket off. She smiled at him and he laughed, letting her take it. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see someone doing the same to Kyoutani. Then all at once there were more hands, tugging at all of Yuuji’s clothes, ripping them from him. Not even his shoes stayed on as he was shoved through the door of the headman’s house. He landed on his ass, staring at the door as it swung shut. He glanced to the side to see Kyoutani in a state of equal undress, a befuddled look on his face.

 

If he had been more sober - even a little sober - he would have been more embarrassed. He would have stormed out of the house, demanding his clothes and an apology to cover up how mortified he was. Since he was too drunk for any reasonable response, however, he only snorted, then fell over with laughter. Kyoutani stared at him with wide eyes, then all at once he began to laugh too. Yuuji lay naked on his back on the floor of a stranger’s house in a foreign land, beside an equally naked prince, and laughed more than he had in a very long time.

 

-

 

Kentarou woke feeling like he had the time he’d tried to spar with Iwaizumi and had been knocked unconscious for six and a half hours. Everything was the same: the bitter taste in his mouth, the ache in all his limbs, the pounding in his head, the disorientation of an unfamiliar ceiling above him. The only difference was that he was naked this time, and there was a man laying beside him with his arm thrown over Kentarou’s waist.

 

For a moment, he let himself think through things logically. He could remember most of the night before, the arrival in the village and the blessing and the dancing. He could remember the prince of Theun Dral, laughing and dazzling, now apparently naked on the floor next to him.

 

With a groan he shoved Terushima’s arm off of him and slowly sat up. Just as he made it all the way upright, a pounding on the headman’s door echoed the pounding in his skull. Terushima groaned and curled tighter into himself.

 

“Yuuji! Get your ass out here!” The voice that echoed from the other side of the door was unfamiliar, but the tone was not. Kentarou buried his face in his hands, whining softly while Terushima started working on uncurling himself. The pounding continued, and at this point Kentarou wasn’t sure if it was inside or outside anymore.

 

“Alright!” shouted Terushima at last. “Calm down, Daichi, I’m coming!” Kentarou watched blearily as Terushima stumbled over to the door and shoved against it. It didn’t budge. Terushima strained against the doors, and Kentarou took a moment to let himself appreciate the lithe muscles working in his back. He did _not_ allow himself to appreciate anything lower than that. “Daichi, the door’s locked from your side,” Terushima grumbled as he slumped forward, resting his head on the door.

 

“Well yeah, they didn’t want you escaping rather than consummating.” Terushima’s shoulders stiffened slightly at the new voice and he groaned softly.

 

“Suga, please tell me you don’t mean-”

 

“KYOUTANI KENTAROU YOU HAD BETTER HAVE A GOOD EXPLANATION FOR THIS.” Terushima wheeled back from the door in confusion and Kentarou’s headache spiked. He shoved himself to his feet and staggered over to the door.

 

“Yahaba, shut the fuck up,” he growled. He could almost see Yahaba’s pinched expression, like he’d swallowed an entire lemon with a chaser of spoiled milk.

 

“Do you at least have clothes on?” he snarled. Kentarou took a deep breath, not ready to deal with this so early.

 

“No,” he answered.

 

“Do you have _pants_ on?”

 

“Pants are fucking clothes and I have no clothes, so no.” The first voice, Daichi, said something too low for Kentarou to hear, and Yahaba answered. There were more voices, Akaashi and Iwaizumi and Oikawa and the man Terushima had called Suga, along with a couple that Kentarou didn’t recognize. Then all the noise faded away.

 

“Okay, we got the key,” Daichi said. “And some clothes.”

 

“Thanks, Daichi,” Terushima muttered, stepping away from the door. It opened enough to let in two men Kentarou vaguely recognized, and Iwaizumi who held out a bundle of clothes to Kentarou with the ghost of a smirk on his face. Kentarou took the bundle and dressed himself quickly, half-listening to the banter coming from the others.

 

“I warned you not to get carried away last night,” Daichi was saying. He was short and stocky, looking like he was built for war rather than diplomacy. It was everything that Kentarou had expected from the rough people of Theun Dral, the opposite his two companions. He stood with one hand on his forehead, an air of exasperation rolling off his shoulders that Kentarou recognized all too well. “I told you not to drink too much, not to goof off like you would at home. You don’t know these people’s customs!”

 

“If Suga had just done his _job_ , this wouldn’t have happened,” Terushima muttered. The smaller of the two men, slight and pretty but with obvious strength cording the muscles of his forearms, let out a high and clear laugh. He was wearing light, leather armor and had a sword hanging from his side, obviously a soldier. Kentarou thought of the difference between him and Oikawa and tried not to laugh.

 

“You’re fine,” he said, clapping Terushima on his bare shoulder. “Well, mostly fine.”

 

“What does _that_ mean?” Terushima grumbled, pulling a shirt over his head. The soldier and the adviser exchanged looks, then glanced at Iwaizumi, who sighed.

 

“It seems that last night was more than just a blessing and a welcome ceremony,” he said. “I’m not sure where the misunderstanding arose, but it seems the people of Pocleal were under the impression that Nierva and Theun Dral were sending their crown princes to meet halfway between their territories so that they could form an alliance.”

 

“That… doesn’t sound too bad?” Terushima said, looking at Iwaizumi with his head cocked, like a dog. Kentarou couldn’t help but think that he was genuinely adorable, all big eyes and wide grins and bright hair. He wondered what it would be like to get to know Terushima, to maybe forge a friendship with him and-

 

“An alliance by marriage,” Daichi said. All thoughts of Terushima’s attractions fled Kentarou’s mind and he choked on his own saliva.

 

“A _what_?” he growled, whirling on Iwaizumi.

 

"Alliance by marriage," Iwaizumi repeated. "Congratulations, your highness, you're married." Kentarou stared at Iwaizumi, desperate for a sign of humor. But there was nothing, no glint of sarcasm to hint that Iwaizumi was being anything but serious.

 

"You mean, to him?" Kentarou asked, voice barely above a whisper.

 

"It seems that's what the thing with the flower crowns and the wine was when we first arrived," Daichi said. "Apparently they didn't want to waste any time and got the ceremony over with quickly."

 

"Poclealian tradition doesn't leave much room for argument," Suga said. "There's a chance that we can have their head priest annul it, but only if he believes that the union wasn't consummated." His eyes turned sharp, darting between Terushima and Kentarou. "It wasn't consummated, was it?"

 

"Of course it wasn't!" Terushima cried. Kentarou's head was too full of white noise to offer him much help, but he nodded.

 

"Good," Suga said. "It may be a bit difficult to prove, however. Apparently, getting the newlyweds drunk and then throwing them into an empty house with no clothes on is part of the tradition. It works well, when the couple knows that they're a couple."

 

"Great," Kentarou muttered, slumping against a wall. "So where's the high priest?" Suga made a face, glancing at Daichi.

 

"Yahaba and Akaashi are trying to find out exactly where," Iwaizumi said. "But it seems he's not in the city."

 

"Great," Kentarou repeated. Iwaizumi gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder, but not much else. Kentarou got the feeling he was enjoying this.

 

"Well, since you're both up and dressed, we should probably head over to the city hall," Daichi said, obviously trying to make himself sound cheerful. He didn't quite manage it. Kentarou and Terushima both nodded and followed the others out of the house. Kentarou took a deep breath just before the threshold, reminding himself of all the lessons his mother had taught him, about masks and mountains. He squared his shoulders and stepped into the blinding light.

 

The entire village seemed to have gathered to see them emerge. A great cheer went up as soon as they appeared, people shouting well wishes and greetings in the same strange language as the night before. A few women at the front of the crowd threw flowers into the air and they rained down around Kentarou and Terushima. For a moment, they both stood frozen, staring at the sea of faces before them. Then Kentarou recovered first and, with an attempt at a smile plastered on his face, he took a half step forward. Terushima snapped out of his daze and together they descended the stairs in front of the headman's house. The crowd parted for them and they followed Iwaizumi, Daichi, and Suga across the green a building slightly larger than all the others. When they stepped inside and shut the doors behind them, Kentarou allowed himself a moment to close his eyes and hate the world. Then he shoved himself forward.

 

Iwaizumi led them to a largish dining room, where Akaashi and Yahaba sat with the headman at one end of a table that was too short for the room, Oikawa standing against the wall to one side. Yahaba was arguing with the headman, but he cut off when they entered, shooting to his feet. The headman followed quickly and Akaashi lazily, waiting until Terushima, Kyoutani, Daichi, and Iwaizumi had all taken their seats. Suga crossed to stand next to Oikawa.

 

"Your royal highnesses, may I offer my most humble apologies for this misunderstanding," the headman said miserably.

 

"Your apology is accepted," Terushima said smoothly, almost nothing left of the bubbly young man he had been the night before. Kentarou recognized when someone was playing the politician, and he was impressed at how seamless Terushima made the transition seem. Kentarou straightened his shoulders to follow suit.

 

"My adviser tells me your high priest is not currently in the city," he said. "Where can we find him?"

 

"He has gone on pilgrimage to Uspar," the headman replied. "He is not expected back before next spring." Kyoutani nodded, half-noticing the way Terushima's shoulders seemed just slightly stiffer.

 

"Then we will simply have to meet him there," said Akaashi softly.

 

"I still don't see why we can't just ignore the entire thing altogether," Yahaba muttered. "It's not like they made any vows or anything."

 

"Yahaba-san, you know very well that they did," Daichi interjected. "They may not have known that that's what they were doing, but by drinking the sacred wine, they pledged their lives to each other, in accordance with Poclealian tradition. It's just as sacred as a wedding vow from either of our cultures."

 

"Once again, may I offer a most sincere apology, on behalf of-"

 

"It's fine," said Iwaizumi, reaching out to lay a hand on the headman's shoulder. "It was a misunderstanding, one that we will rectify, and ensure is not repeated." The headman nodded miserably.

 

"We will, of course, offer any supplies you will be needing on your journey to Uspar," he said.

 

"That won't be necessary," Akaashi said. "Our royal tour was meant to end there regardless, and we have more than enough supplies for Prince Terushima and any companions to carry on with us."

 

"It would probably be best if we send messengers to each of our own courts, explaining the situation," Daichi said. "As for companions..." he glanced at Terushima, and then across the hall at Suga. "I believe it will only be his highness, myself, and the captain of our guard. We did not have a large party in the first place, and we intended to return to Theun Dral after our stop here." Across the table from him, Yahaba sighed, scrubbing a hand across his forehead.

 

"Part of me feels we should abandon prestige in favor of reaching the high priest as soon as possible, but I worry about offending all those kingdoms we had agreed to visit along the way," he said.

 

"I will leave you to discuss those particulars amongst yourselves," the headman said, standing. He bowed lightly, then scurried out of the room.

 

“Poor guy,” remarked Suga, watching him with a dangerous light in his eyes that was mirrored in Oikawa’s. “He’s just waiting for all this to come crashing down around him.”

 

“Suga, behave.” Daichi suddenly sounded much more tired than he had a moment ago. Kentarou felt that exhaustion echoed in his own bones and he slumped in his chair, ignoring both Yahaba and Akaashi’s glares at his impropriety. “Go get Ennoshita, and tell Bobata to start preparing for our departure.” Suga nodded and left the room, Akaashi following close behind. Kentarou folded his arms on the table and buried his head in them, listening to the preparations going on around him.

 

It was going to be a long couple of weeks.

 

-

 

They left the second-largest city in Pocleal amid a flurry of flower petals and music. Yuuji leaned out of the carriage window and waved, smiling at everyone around him, laughing and charming everyone he could see. When they were finally out of sight, he ducked back into the carriage and collapsed against the seat with a sigh.

 

“Why do you do that?” Kyoutani asked him. He was seated on the other side of the carriage, slumped against the wall. His adviser, Iwaizumi, sat against the other wall, reading through a stack of papers with a bored expression on his face. Daichi was in the other carriage, discussing some important matter or other with Yahaba and Akaashi.

 

“Do what?” Yuuji asked.

 

“Act like that,” Kyoutani said. “Like a ditsy lady’s maid or a pageant boy.”

 

“Why don’t you?” Yuuji asked. “People love the idea of a fairytale prince, all charming and lovely. If you give them a bit of that fantasy, they’re usually more willing to give you the things you want in return.”

 

“He has a point,” Iwaizumi said without looking up from his papers. Kyoutani grumbled something under his breath and a corner of Iwaizumi’s mouth quirked upward. Yuuji watched them for a moment longer, but the swaying of the carriage and the long night and early start was starting to wear on him. He leaned his head against the padded wall and let his eyes flutter shut.

 

He wasn’t sure what woke him at first, but soon it became apparent that the carriage was pulling into another city, this one much larger than the last. There were cheers in every direction and people throwing flowers from windows. Yuuji looked out the window, then at the befuddled expressions on Kyoutani and Iwaizumi’s faces.

 

“I take it this isn’t just a normal reception for you,” he said.

 

“No,” Kyoutani answered. “Is it for you?”

 

“No.” He frowned, looking at all the smiling faces. “Wonder what they’re so excited about.”

 

“Whatever it is, it can only spell trouble for us,” Iwaizumi grumbled. “We’re in Scora now, in their capitol, Kebos. We were expecting a lukewarm greeting here.”

 

“And instead they’re singing in the streets,” Yuuji said, straightening the lines of his jacket. “Well, this should be interesting, at least.”

 

And it was. As soon as Yuuji and Kyoutani stepped out of the carriage, they were met with wild applause. Yuuji waved and Kyoutani nodded as they followed the path laid out for them into the palace. The great doors shut behind the last of their party, drowning out the majority of the noise, but there was still an impresive crowd gathered inside the courtyard to meet them.

 

“Prince Yuuji, Prince Kentarou, welcome!” boomed a loud, jovial voice. The king of Scora stood at the top of a stairway before a pair of massive doors, holding his arms out to either side. “The kingdom of Scora offers its congratulations on the occasion of your marriage!”

 

It was as if several voices started shouting at once in Yuuji’s head, screaming advice and explanations and general cacophony. He blinked, smile fixed firmly in place, and inclined his head.

 

“Thank you, your majesty, for your welcome and your congratulations,” he said.

 

“Come!” boomed the king. “You must be tired from your journey. Please, join me for refreshments.” Yuuji inclined his head again, Kyoutani mirroring him, and together they climbed the stairs and followed the king into the palace. Yuuji spared a glance over his shoulder at Daichi, who shook his head, equally bewildered. He led them through winding corridors and up staircases until they reached a lavish sitting room. A slight, silver-haired man was sitting there, draped across the furniture like he had been placed there by the gods, looking up at Yuuji and Kyoutani with a smile.

 

“If you will follow me.” Yuuji turned at the sound of a small, querulous voice to see a servant gesturing for Daichi and the others to continue down the hall. Daichi looked at him and he nodded. Daichi squared his jaw and followed the servant, allowing the door to close between them. Yuuji turned to face the room, smile still in place. It was just him and Kyoutani now, left to explain the situation to the Scoran kings without offending them. He took the a seat on one of the plush couches and accepted a cup of tea from a servant who scurried away immediately.

 

“Thank you, for your hospitality,” Yuuji said.

 

“It is the least we can do,” replied the man with the silver hair. Yuuji wondered if he was considered a king in his own right, or if he was more of a consort. He certainly looked like a consort, but there was a sharpness to his gaze that told Yuuji he was not to be underestimated. “After all, it is a great honor to receive you merely a day after your own wedding.”

 

“Ah, about that,” Yuuji said. He glanced at Kyoutani, the words dying on his tongue.

 

“We’re not married,” Kyoutani said at last. “It was a misunderstanding.”

 

“Oh?” said the silver-haired consort. “The herald sent out from Pocleal said that you were married in a traditional service last night.”

 

“We- we were,” Yuuji said. “I’m afraid it’s complicated. We were both told that it would be a simple blessing ceremony, but it seems that the people of Pocleal were told that we were there to forge an alliance.”

 

“So, there is no alliance between Nierva and Theun Dral?” Something about the way it was said, and the way the two men exchanged glances put Yuuji on edge.

 

“There was no intention for one formed in this manner,” he said carefully.

 

“An alliance between two nations as great as yours could easily ensure peace in the region,” said the king. “If the whole thing is a hoax…” he trailed off, looking at Yuuji and Kyoutani significantly.

 

“It is no hoax,” Kyoutani said, picking up on Yuuji’s worry. “It was unplanned, however, and now our kingdoms have yet to decide how to continue. There are negotiations that have yet to take place, over trade and policy.” He glanced at Yuuji, then seemed to make a decision. “The last stop on this tour is the holy spring in Uspar, where we mean to seek counsel on this matter, on neutral ground as it were.” It was as if Kyoutani’s words were a knife, cutting through the tension in the room. Both the king and the consort relaxed, their smiles becoming more genuine.

 

“That is good to hear,” said the consort. “These years of war have left their marks on all of us. The example set by Nierva and Theun Dral will lead to good for all.” Yuuji managed not to glance at Kyoutani, but it was a close thing.

 

“You must be tired,” the king boomed. Yuuji wondered if he was capable of speaking in any other manner at all. “We have set aside chambers for you to freshen up before the feast tonight.” Yuuji thanked the king, and he and Kyoutani followed a servant out of the room and through another endless stretch of corridors to a lavish guest room. As soon as the door was shut, Kyoutani collapsed against it, eyes wide and darting about the room.

 

“You okay?” Yuuji asked. Kyoutani looked at him, jaw clenched. He straightened his shoulders and nodded. “I mean it,” Yuuji said with a frown. “Don’t pull that whole hide the real emotions behind the prince face thing. We’re-”

 

“We’re what?” Kyoutani interrupted. “Married? Because I thought we were pretty much total strangers.” Yuuji made a face, glancing around at the room, decorated in the style and colors of a foreign court.

 

“Looks like we have to be both,” he said. “At least for the time being.”

 

-

 

There had been a time when Kentarou had absolutely despised these state dinners. As a child, he had always tried to hide from them, claiming sickness to get out of some, making himself utterly unpresentable for others, disappearing entirely for one or two. His mother always saw through him, however. She had taken him aside one day, just before a birthday celebration for his little sister, and he had thought that she was going to scold him. What she said instead changed his life.

 

“When people look at you, they do not see Kentarou the boy,” she said. “They see Kentarou the prince. There is a wall between you and them, clear as glass but hard as diamonds. To them, you are as untouchable as the great mountain, a force of nature too mighty for them to understand. You only become less in their eyes if you allow yourself to.”

 

He couldn’t help but remember that conversation now, seated in the great hall in the palace in Scora. The king was jovial, laughing and shouting to his guests and servants. The consort was sweet, spun sugar laced through with the subtle threat of poison. Kentarou and Terushima were strangers here, and that set them at a disadvantage.

 

Terushima didn’t seemed bothered by it. He laughed and joked with the king, traded barbs with the consort, charmed the courtiers around them like it was as simple as breathing. He charmed the room while Kentarou remained stoic and untouchable.

 

“You make a good pair.” The consort’s voice at Kentarou’s side was quiet, meant for him alone. He glanced down at the man, then looked straight ahead.

 

“I’m surprised to hear you say so,” he offered. The consort smiled at him, lounging against the back of his chair and picking up a goblet of wine with one dainty hand.

 

“You may not be what most would expect,” he agreed with a hum and a sip of his wine. “But then again, most people aren’t. You are princes, and that puts you above humanity in the eyes of the people. It often takes time to see what is underneath.”

 

“And what _is_ underneath?” Kentarou asked, despite himself. The consort’s smile seemed more natural this time and he inclined his head to where Yuuji was dancing with a court woman.

 

“I see two boys who are in vastly over their heads,” he said. “Two boys who attended a banquet and emerged from it with the fate of not only their kingdoms, but each other’s and all those around them, in the palms of their hands. Two boys who, for better or worse, have decided to see this through to the end. Which tells me that you are either young and foolish or duty-driven and stubborn. Or, more likely, a heady combination of the two. Am I correct?” Kentarou blinked.

 

“You are not incorrect,” he admitted at last. “Prince Yuuji and I do intend to do whatever we can for the betterment of all our lands. But I’m not sure exactly how we can do that.” The consort patted him on the shoulder.

 

“I think you may find that it will all work out, far better than you believe,” he said. “Just so long as you don’t scare yourselves off.”

 

“I’m afraid- I’m not sure what you mean,” Kentarou said. The consort’s eyes sparkled and he cast a glance at where the king was laughing loudly enough to fill the whole room.

 

“You will,” he said. “In time.”

 

-

 

They stayed in Scora for three days, long enough to send out messengers to Nierva and Theun Dral and to reorganize for the journey to Uspar. There was a banquet every night, boasting of Scora’s agricultural wealth. By the time the third night ended, Yuuji shuffled into the chambers set aside for them, exhausted.

 

“Please tell me we’re really leaving tomorrow,” he groaned quietly, flopping into one of the plush armchairs in the sitting room. Suga ruffled his hair on his way toward the secondary bedchambers.

 

“We will be leaving tomorrow at first light,” Yahaba confirmed, narrowing his eyes at Yuuji. “We will be three days on the road before we reach Ketas, where we will stay for two nights, and then four days to Riehold.”

 

“Great, because believe it or not, I am sick of all these parties,” Yuuji said. Yahaba’s jaw clenched and Yuuji bit back a sigh. “Anyway. I’ll just go to bed then, since we’ve got an early start.”

 

“Do you require any assistance, Your Majesty?” Yahaba asked stiffly. Yuuji waved him off, trying not to look like he was running away as he crossed to the bedchamber. He listened for a few seconds at the door, waiting until Yahaba had struck up a conversation with Daichi before he let himself relax.

 

“What are you doing?” Yuuji jumped at the sound of Kyoutani’s voice. Kyoutani raised an eyebrow at him from where he was sitting against the wall beneath the window, a book in his lap. Yuuji shook his head, trying to clear the jitters from his system.

 

“Making sure your little guard dog isn’t going to murder me in my sleep or whatever it is he does,” he answered, tugging at the heavy gold chain that sat around his shoulders. He dropped it on a table then bent to yank off his boots. “Is he always that intense?”

 

“Yahaba?” asked Kyoutani, closing his book around his thumb. “Yeah, he likes his plans and lists and shit. It can be fun to screw with him over it, but he’s pretty stressed right now, so probably just stay out of his way.” Yuuji chuckled awkwardly, not really sure what to do with himself. After a moment, he gave up and tugged his shirt off, dropping it next to the chair, and padded over to the little pile of blankets against the opposite wall. He was just settling in, pulling the warmest of the blankets up to his chin, when Kyoutani asked what he was doing.

 

“Uh, getting ready to sleep?” he said, surprised by how close Kyoutani had gotten without him noticing. He was standing a couple feet away, leaning against a bedpost and glaring down at him.

 

“There’s a perfectly good bed right here,” Kyoutani said.

 

“Yeah, but you slept on the floor last night,” Yuuji replied. “It’s my turn.”

 

“That floor’s uncomfortable as shit,” Kyoutani said. Yuuji opened his mouth to argue, but Kyoutani was already walking away. “The bed’s big. We’ll just share it,” he said as he stripped off his own boots.

 

“You sure?” Yuuji asked. “If you’re not okay with that then-”

 

“’Sfine,” Kyoutani interrupted. He crawled into the bed and tugged the blanket up to his ears, turning on his side. Yuuji couldn’t help but think he looked like a petulant child. He bit back a chuckle as he took his place on the other side.

 

There was room enough for two more of them to lay in this bed without touching. The space between them was an endless gulf, silent and judging, and Yuuji hated it, and hated that he hated it. He’d known Kyoutani for five days now, and they were just as foreign to each other as they had been on that first night. Yuuji had seen Kyoutani naked, had slept pressed against him on the floor of a stranger’s house, and yet he knew next to nothing about him. He knew he had a mother, but they had never talked about siblings or friends, anything about their families. He didn’t know what Kyoutani did for fun, if he enjoyed being a prince or if he hated it, if he ever lie awake at night wondering if he would lead his country to ruin, the way Yuuji often did. He didn’t even know if Kyoutani was single, or if there was a sweetheart at home who would be devastated when they heard the news of a royal marriage.

 

Listening to the heavy rise-and-fall of Kyoutani’s breath, Yuuji resolved to spend the next day learning something about Kyoutani. He closed his eyes and let the rhythm and the soft warmth of the bed drag him down into something resembling sleep.

 

-

 

Kentarou vastly preferred being on the road to the time spent as a pampered guest in foreign courts. He disliked being made a fuss of, no matter who was doing the fussing. The open road was much better. It didn’t care if he was a prince, didn’t care if he could call down the armies of Nierva at the slightest offense. It was no less dusty and potholed for him than it would be for a common farmer.

 

It was also quieter here, for all that it was never actually silent. Iwaizumi had been roped into riding in the other carriage, something to do with keeping Yahaba from devouring Terushima’s adviser alive, leaving Kentarou and Terushima alone. Kentarou worried for a moment that it might have allowed room for the same awkward silence of the night before, but Terushima didn’t allow a moment’s break in the silence.

 

“Do you have any siblings?” was Terushima’s first question, as soon as the crowds from Scora faded from view and he stopped playing the charming prince. He sat slumped in the seat opposite Kentarou’s, his feet propped near Kentarou’s hip and a lazy smile on his face.

 

“A- a sister,” Kentarou answered, surprised by the question.

 

“What’s her name?” Terushima prompted.

 

“Kazue,” Kentarou replied. “She’s nine.”

 

“Is she as surly-looking as you, or does she wear her tender heart on the outside?” It took Kentarou a moment to realize that Terushima was teasing him.

 

“She’s actually a lot like you,” he replied. “Gaudy and flippant. She charms everyone she meets, and none of them realize that she’s actually sharp as a knife and that she cares deeply about what people think of her.”

 

“Ouch,” Terushima said with a smile.

 

“Why do you ask?” Kentarou asked. Terushima smiled.

 

“I have two cousins,” he said. “We were all raised like siblings, but it’s not quite the same when you know that one of you is going to be king and the others are just backups, third and fourth in line. People treat you different when you’re the heir.” Kentarou had to tear his eyes away from the half-bitter look on Terushima’s face.

 

“Tell me about the ocean,” he found himself saying. He blinked, surprised at the request. Terushima smiled, the bitterness fading somewhat.

 

“The castle where I grew up is on a cliffside,” he said. “In the winter, the water turns grey, like unrefined steel. I used to stand on a balcony and watch the men from the town go out to fish and wonder if they would come back.”

 

“Morbid,” Kentarou commented. Terushima grinned.

 

“Tell me about the mountain,” he said. The corner of Kentarou’s lip tugged upward, though he didn’t know why.

 

“There are six surrounding the capitol,” he said. “Five are large, but they look like foothills next to the one in the north. That’s the one that the men go up and don’t come down. Hundreds of years ago, it was a coming-of-age ritual. People would take their children to the summit, and leave them there. If the child made it down alive, they reentered society as an adult. Then we grew more civilized and barbaric rituals like that were abandoned.”

 

“You sound heartbroken,” Terushima said with a grin. Kentarou shrugged.

 

“The people think they’re wise,” he said. “They think we’re this pillar of learning and that we deserve more than the kingdoms around us, because we know so much. But most of them couldn’t have made it down the mountain. When our neighbors get sick of our arrogance - and they will, someday - we won’t be able to defend ourselves.”

 

“The people of Theun Dral think that the only way to honor is by providing,” Terushima said. “If you catch enough fish for your family, you are a decent man. If you catch enough for the village, you are a hero. They go out in the boats that their grandfathers built, and use the same nets that their grandmothers wove. They fish the same areas and then wonder why there are no fish left. And if someone were to stop fishing long enough to make a new net or find a new cove, or worse, learn to make pottery or something else that’s useful but not fishing, then he’s a disgrace who doesn’t deserve his family. They’ll die in the same ways they’ve always died, and there are fewer and fewer left behind to take their place.”

 

“So what will they think of you?” Kentarou asked. “The prince who went out to charm the world and came back married to a stuffy Niervan scholar?”

 

“Probably the same thing they’ll think of you when they find out you married a Theunian fishfucker,” Terushima replied. Kentarou stared blankly at him for a moment before he burst out laughing. Terushima laughed along with him, his head thrown back and the long lines of his throat painted golden in the morning sunlight.

 

“Well, then,” Kentarou said when he could control himself again. “We’d better find a way to make me into a brutish fishfucker and you into a stuffy scholar.”

 

“I am yours to shape,” Terushima said, his arms thrown wide. “Teach me of your ways and I’ll teach you of mine.” Kentarou grinned, suddenly looking forward to the long trip to Uspar.

 

-

 

The reception in the next several kingdoms was much the same as it had been in Scora, but this time without the awkward fumbling and the thinly-veiled threats. Yuuji found he liked it much better when he had some idea of what to expect.

 

Ketas had been ready for them, greeting the newlyweds with a wedding gift of two beautiful black stallions, much finer than any horse Yuuji had ever seen. He and Kyoutani rode them in the hunt that their king took them on, and while Yuuji could barely stay in his saddle, Kyoutani rode with an easy grace that made him look like a young god. When he took off across an open plane to see just how fast the renowned Ketasian horses truly were, Yuuji was sure he heard a shriek of pure, unadulterated laughter. It made his chest feel strangely tight. Yuuji managed to fall asleep within a reasonable amount of time that night, too exhausted to lie awake thinking about the man beside him. His dreams were of horses and sunlight and a fairytale of the chariot that pulled the sun.

 

After Ketas had come Riehold, and they had gifted Yuuji and Kyoutani with a net of jewels, which their head priest told them was meant to be draped over the marriage bed as a blessing for both the marriage and the kingdom. Kyoutani had blushed when he’d accepted it, and Yuuji had _not_ found it adorable. He did not fall asleep until a few hours before dawn, unable to get the image of Kyoutani holding that mesh of gold and gemstone close to his chest out of his mind.

 

After Riehold was Melas and then Irich and then Great and Lesser Aberlon, an endless train of kingdoms and welcomes and gifts and banquets. Yuuji found himself oscillating between falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow and lying awake until dawn began to creep into the room. Sometimes Kyoutani slept soundly beside him, and sometimes he sat up with him, talking about whatever came to mind. Yuuji found he liked those nights. He also found he felt strangely guilty for enjoying them so much.

 

During the long stretches in the carriage, they read through the books that the queen of Irich had given them, sometimes separately and sometimes with one tome open over both of their laps. Other days they spent on horseback, Kyoutani laughing at the way Yuuji clung to his new stallion’s mane and Yuuji threatening him with a boat ride should they ever be in Theun Dral together. All the while, Yuuji knew their party was watching them closely.

 

It was Oikawa who finally took him aside one night as the others set up camp. Yuuji had been watching Kyoutani run a comb through his stallion’s tail, talking to it in a low, soothing voice. He jumped when Oikawa laid a hand on his shoulder, barely biting back a startled yell. Oikawa gave him a shallow bow, more out of habit than anything else, then led him away. When they were just outside of earshot of the camp, Oikawa turned to face Yuuji with a hard set to his expression.

 

“I hope you don’t find this impertinent, Your Highness,” he said in a voice that clearly stated he hoped Yuuji found it impertinent.

 

“What is it, Oikawa?” Yuuji asked. He felt suddenly tired, watching the soldier pierce him to the core with his gaze.

 

“Prince Kentarou is young,” Oikawa said. “He is inexperienced and for all that he has been taught well by his mother and by those around him, he cannot tell when people are taking advantage of him.”

 

“Would you please just tell me,” Yuuji snapped. “Don’t dance around and make curtsies to me, just get to the point.”

 

“Fine,” Oikawa huffed. “I want you to stay away from Prince Kentarou, and stop toying with him.”

 

“I’m not toying with him,” Yuuji sputtered. “What the hell are you-”

 

“The smiling, the jokes?” Oikawa pressed. “In front of the courts it’s one thing. I get that you have to present this whole thing as a real marriage, until we can safely have it all taken care of. But out here? It’s just the eight of us. You don’t have anyone to perform for, so why do you keep performing?” Yuuji blinked at him. He was sure he was being insulted, being threatened, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what Oikawa was talking about.

 

“Look, if you’re worried about Kyoutani, you shouldn’t be,” he said. “He’s smarter than any of you seem to give him credit for.”

 

“I know very well how smart he is,” Oikawa snarled. “I also know how cunning you are. And I won’t have Prince Kentarou getting hurt over some foreign playboy who’s just looking for some summer entertainment.” Oikawa turned and stormed away with an air of finality, marching up to where Iwaizumi was struggling with a tent peg. Yuuji watched Oikawa force it into place, brushing off Iwaizumi’s thanks and thundering off to find something else to fix. Yuuji leaned against a tree, feeling very small. He stayed there until Daichi came looking for him, waving off his concern with one of his brightest smiles and a toss of his head. He turned in early that night and stared up at the roof of his tent until the sun rose and it was time to break camp.

 

-

 

Terushima had been distant all day, and Kentarou could not figure out why. He had thought that they were getting along, maybe even becoming friends, but Terushima hadn’t said a word to him all day. There were dark bags under his eyes and his skin was pale and sickly looking, but he insisted he was fine every time anyone asked. Kentarou was quickly getting sick of it.

 

He had planned to confront Terushima about it when they stopped for lunch, hoping that the silence in the carriage would mean some rest. He knew full well that Terushima hadn’t been sleeping well, but his eyes stayed open the entire time, staring out the window at the passing landscape. Before Kentarou could say anything, however, a polite cough drew his attention. Daichi was standing nearby, his face grave. Kentarou followed him without question.

 

“I’m sorry to bother you like this,” Daichi said, glancing around.

 

“What is it?” Kyoutani asked. Daichi sighed.

 

“I’m worried about Prince Yuuji,” he said at last. “He hasn’t been himself since we stopped to make camp last night. Has he said anything to you?”

 

“No,” Kentarou said. “He hasn’t said a word, about anything.” He didn’t say anything about how much that worried him, but he had a feeling Daichi knew anyway. Daichi gave him a smile that felt like the ones his mother had given him when he had tried to hide something from her. Kentarou bristled at it, but then Daichi’s eyes glinted.

 

“Here,” he said, digging in the bag he wore by his side. “See if this won’t draw his interest.” He pulled out a book, small and bound in red leather and terribly familiar.

 

“How did you get that?” Kentarou asked, snatching the book out of Daichi’s hands. Sure enough, it was the same little journal that Yahaba kept by his side at all times, marking down little notes about the landscapes they passed. He flicked through it, glancing over Yahaba’s careful drawings of mountain ridges and lakes and strange leaves, all with notes written underneath in Yahaba’s neat handwriting. Daichi’s cheeks tinged pink.

 

“He- he gave it to me,” he said with an awkward cough. “Anyway, Prince Yuuji loves things like that. Distant lands and the things you find there. It should help draw him out of whatever rut he’s in.”

 

“I will,” Kentarou said slowly. “Why would Yahaba give you this? It’s his prized possession.” Daichi’s face turned redder at that, his eyes widening. He glanced over his shoulder to where Yahaba was arguing loudly with Oikawa.

 

“I don’t know,” he said, and there was something in his voice that Kentarou didn’t really care to decipher. He simply tucked the book into his pocket and turned back to the camp.

 

Terushima was sitting at the base of a tree, tearing pieces off of a hunk of bread and tossing them away. He didn’t notice Kentarou approaching until he flopped down next to him, taking the bread and putting the book in his hands instead.

 

“What’s this?” Terushima asked, and though his voice was still dull and flat, he was at least speaking.

 

“Yahaba’s journal,” Kentarou answered, then tore off a bite of the bread. “Daichi had it.”

 

“Why did Daichi have Yahaba’s journal?” Terushima asked.

 

“Dunno. Yahaba never lets anyone touch it. I only know about it because I’ve seen him writing in it.” Terushima glanced at Yahaba, then opened the journal. He drew a fingertip along the line of a river inked onto the first page, the touch bordering on reverent. He turned the page and gasped outright at the next drawing, a waterfall that they had passed once on a visit to Kentarou’s aunt’s estate. Terushima flipped through the pages, staring at each drawing with wide eyes and a light tremor to his fingers. When he turned to a full-page rendering of the winter festival, he stopped.

 

“Is this your mountain?” he asked, touching the peak that reared above the careful lines of the festival yard.

 

“It is,” Kentarou said. “This is the winter festival, the celebration of the longest night of the year. We stay up the entire night with so many lanterns that it’s as bright as daylight, and then in the morning we would go to make offerings to the spirit of the mountain. It’s an outdated tradition that no one really believes in, but…” He trailed off with a shrug. Terushima glanced at him, then looked back at the drawing like he couldn’t pull himself away for long. He traced the skirts of a dancing woman, then the long sweep of the mountain melting into one of its sisters, then the wall of the courtyard draped with white and silver tapestries. Yahaba really had done a good job of capturing the scene.

 

“I would like to see it one day,” Terushima said, so quietly Kentarou almost couldn’t hear. He opened his mouth, ready to promise to show Terushima the festival and the mountain and every other wonder of his home. He stopped.

 

His chest felt warm, felt tight, felt too small to contain the wild pounding of his heart. His hands felt like they were trembling. His stomach was a thunderstorm and his legs were thrumming with the need to move and the certainty that if he tried to stand they would buckle under him. He itched to reach out and run his fingers through Terushima’s hair, to tuck a wild strand back into place. His eyes traced the many piercings in Terushima’s ears and nose, the long line of his neck, the broad stretch of his shoulders. He wanted to lace his fingers through the long, slender ones tracing the page. He wanted to wrap his arms around Terushima’s waist and pull him into his lap, hold him close, and tell him a thousand stories to make his eyes light up even brighter than they already were. He wanted to sleep in the same bed as Terushima and have it mean what their hosts always thought it meant. He wanted, oh how he wanted.

 

But he couldn’t have what he wanted. So he curled his hand into a fist near his hip and smiled tightly. “Someday,” he said, “you should come and visit me. For the festival.” Terushima smiled up at him, and the child-like delight flooding his eyes delivered the final blow that shattered Kentarou’s heart. He returned the smile as well as he could, and pushed himself to his feet. He walked away from the tree where dreams he didn’t even know he’d had lay shattered, past Iwaizumi and Suga and Oikawa sitting in a clump sharpening weapons and laughing, past Akaashi reading in the shadow of the carriages, past Daichi and Yahaba locked in an embrace where they probably thought they were out of sight. He swung himself into the saddle of the stallion that the king of Ketas had given him, and rode away.

 

-

 

The rise of Uspar on the horizon should have been a relief. Yuuji had been away from home for months now, and the tall, slender spires of the kingdom of the holy spring offered the end of his journey and the promise of returning home like nothing had ever happened. But instead of welcoming the sight, Yuuji hunkered down his seat and fought back a scowl.

 

“Are you alright, Prince Yuuji?” asked Akaashi from the other side of the carriage. Kyoutani was asleep, sprawled half on the seat and half on Akaashi, and it was adorable. Yuuji looked away.

 

“I’m fine,” he said quietly, knowing full well Akaashi didn’t believe him. But that was the nice thing about Akaashi, Yuuji supposed. He didn’t believe Yuuji, and he knew that Yuuji knew he didn’t believe him, yet he still returned to his book without a word on the subject. Yuuji stared out the window and thought about the conversation he’d had with Kyoutani on their last night in Lesser Aberlon.

 

They had been sitting up in bed, sometime past midnight, talking about absolutely nothing. Yuuji had been on the edge of falling asleep, his limbs and eyelids heavy with the sound of Kyoutani’s voice, when he had spoken.

 

“What do we do, if the priest won’t absolve the marriage?” Kyoutani had asked.

 

“’S there a reason he wouldn’t?” Yuuji had replied, snuggling deeper into the warm blankets. Kyoutani had shifted.

 

“I mean, we have acted like a married couple in front of the crowds,” he’d said, his voice surprisingly clear of its usual rumbling grow. “And we’ve been sharing a bed in every kingdom we’ve visited. People will take that the wrong way.” Yuuji had shrugged with one shoulder, the other too tired and too pinned down by the rest of his body to join it.

 

“If the priest was gonna believe that, we’d have been screwed from the beginning,” he had said. “We spent the night together, drunk and naked in the headman’s house, remember?” Kyoutani had grinned at him, all warm and soft, and then the expression had dropped.

 

“But seriously,” he had said. “What do we do if the priest won’t annul? How do we move forward from that?” Yuuji had sighed, sitting up. He was exhausted, but all the sleepy warmth had left him.

 

“If he won’t annul it…” Yuuji had frowned at his lap. He had wanted to ask if it would be a bad thing, if Kyoutani would regret it. He hadn’t. “If he won’t annul it, then we’ll have to do what we’ve been saying we’ll do. Figure out how to work out an alliance, trade and procedure and all that.”

 

“Would you want that?” Kyoutani had asked. Yuuji hadn’t been able to answer him.

 

Now, watching the streets of Uspar pass by outside the carriage window, Yuuji still didn’t have his answer. He couldn’t imagine going home now like he had never met Kyoutani, never gone on this journey and gotten to know the surly prince from the elegant mountain kingdom, but at the same time he couldn’t picture a different future. One where he and Kyoutani were married in truth, where they built a life for and with one another.

 

One where he could look at Kyoutani, sprawled and drooling, and not have to hate himself for finding it endearing.

 

As the carriage pulled onto the high road toward the palace, Akaashi kicked Kyoutani awake and Yuuji chased all thoughts of futures from his mind. He watched Akaashi dab at the drool on his shoulder with a handkerchief and tried to collect his scattered thoughts. He straightened his cuffs just as the carriage clattered to a stop.

 

“Ready?” Kyoutani asked. Yuuji found himself smiling.

 

“As I’ll ever be,” he said. The carriage door opened, and Yuuji followed Kyoutani out into the courtyard.

 

It was a riot of color and noise, streaming banners and flying flowers, cheers and laughter and a joyous strain of music. Yuuji blinked at all the chaos around them, unable to move. He couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything in the face of the crowds around them, until a large, rough hand brushed against his own. Yuuji linked his fingers with Kyoutani’s and the world grew quieter, grew softer, grew manageable. He gave Kyoutani’s hand a squeeze, and together they made their way through the crowd, Yuuji smiling and waving and Kyoutani just waving.

 

Kyoutani didn’t let go of his hand when they made it into the great hall and the doors closed behind them, blocking out the sound. He didn’t let go as they were led through the halls of the castle and into a reception room. He didn’t let go as they greeted the three kings of Uspar and sat down on the couch offered to them. He simply tucked their joined hands between their bodies and then acted like they no longer existed.

 

“We have heard a rumor,” said one king, short and pretty with fluffy brown hair that reminded Yuuji of a strange and dangerous cross between Suga and Oikawa. There was delight riding high in his eyes as he studied them.

 

“What rumor would that be?” Yuuji asked. The king smiled.

 

“A rumor that you’ve come here for counsel,” he said. “That you didn’t intend to marry, and now you have to balance your two kingdoms without stepping on any toes.”

 

“That’s… true,” Kyoutani said slowly, glancing at Yuuji.

 

“But it’s not the entire truth, is it?” asked the second king, the tall, serious-looking one. “There is more to your stories than what the heralds from Pocleal have spread.” Yuuji squeezed Kyoutani’s hand.

 

“We do intend to form an alliance out of this… misadventure,” Yuuji said. “But not through marriage. There is a priest here, a pilgrim from Pocleal, who would have the power to annul our marriage. We came with the intention of seeking him out.”

 

“Then why is it that the heralds have shared the news of your wedding like a celebration?” asked the third king, bright-haired and brighter-eyed. “If this was all a misunderstanding, why not simply say so?”

 

“We wished to avoid any tension among our neighbors,” Yuuji replied. “The news that our marriage was not a true one began to lead to unrest. It was vital that we assure everyone that there would be an official alliance in place, and while we could not say what that alliance will ultimately be, we decided it was best to continue on with the one we already had available.” The kings looked at them with varying levels of approval and distrust. It was a look Yuuji wished he did not know quite so well. He leaned closer to Kyoutani.

 

“The priest is here,” said the first king, at long last. “We could arrange a meeting for you, if that is what you would like. However…”

 

“However we would advise against it,” continued the third king. “Any official alliance between your two kingdoms would be a boon for the stability of the entire region, but one through any other means but marriage could be easily thrown aside.”

 

“Our kingdom was formed on the unification of three, distinct lands,” said the second king. “There is a reason our neighbors look to us in tricky matters of diplomacy. There is a reason the holy spring is a meeting place, the neutral ground which many seek out when dealing with things that could affect the entire world. And our advice to you is not to absolve this marriage, but to let the union stand. However, it is not our place to decide the policies of others, so if the priest is truly the one you seek, we will have him brought.”

 

There was a brief, but heavy silence. Yuuji looked at Kyoutani and Kyoutani looked back at him. Really, there was only one answer.

 

“Your advice is appreciated,” Yuuji said, turning back to the second king. “But I think it would be best, for the time being, if we went ahead with the annulment. Representatives from our kingdoms should be arriving within the week to negotiate a treaty, but this is not the way.”

 

“If that is your decision,” said the second king, and Yuuji wondered if it was his imagination or if he genuinely sounded sad.

 

“We have prepared separate chambers for you,” said the third. “If you would like to refresh yourselves from your journey, we will send word to the Poclean priest that you wish to speak with him.”

 

“Thank you,” said Kyoutani, standing. He offered the kings a bow, and then he and Yuuji followed a servant out of the room.

 

They were still holding hands.

 

-

 

There was no discussion as to whether they would separate when they reached their new rooms. Terushima pulled Kentarou into his chamber, and Kentarou followed without question. The servant didn’t comment, simply scurried away with a bow. Kentarou and Yuuji sat on the foot of the bed, thighs pressed together and hands still linked.

 

“I have a feeling we may be in more danger than ever,” Terushima said quietly. Kentarou nodded. “So what do we do?”

 

“What we planned to,” Kentarou answered. “Talk to the priest, tell him the whole story, and hope he believes us.”

 

“Do you think that will work?” Kentarou sighed.

 

“It has to,” he said. “We don’t have much of a choice. What we really need to worry about is what happens after.”

 

“We have a few days to figure that out,” Terushima said. Kentarou didn’t want to be reassured, but his words settled over him like a warm blanket regardless. “Once the representatives arrive with word from Nierva and Theun Dral, we’ll be able to work out a treaty that won’t involve us being married. One that will make everyone happy.”

 

Kentarou didn’t reply. Terushima was right, after all. That would be the arrangement that would work best for everyone involved. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about himself. He pulled his hand out of Terushima’s at last and stood, offering Terushima the barest of smiles before slipping out of the room. He made himself a promise as he took the six steps into his own room. He would do what was best for his kingdom first, for Terushima second, and for the stuttering, whispering beast in his chest last. If he was careful about this, he could still come out of this with a friend.

 

It was more than he deserved.

 

-

 

They met the priest, along with their pack of advisers, in a little sitting room off of Terushima’s chambers that afternoon. He was a small, cheerful-looking man, everything that Kentarou would expect from a friendly monk in a children’s story. He sat in an armchair between Daichi and Akaashi, across from Kentarou and Terushima, and listened intently through their whole story. He smiled and frowned and nodded in all the right places, clearly riveted. When they finished the telling, he sat with a serious expression for a moment.

 

“I believe your story,” he said slowly, “and I would be more than willing to rescind the marriage for you,” he said, but he was still frowning.

 

“But?” asked Kentarou. The priest almost smiled.

 

“But I’m afraid these matters are complicated,” he said. “When a royal marriage is involved, there are more factors to consider than just the two individuals.”

 

“We know,” said Terushima quickly. “We’ve sent for people from each of our kingdoms to help us negotiate a treaty to take the place of this marriage. We don’t want to cause any unrest in the region, we simply don’t want to be forced into a marriage that happened purely by accident.”

 

“In that case…” the priest trailed off, rubbing at his stubbly jaw. “In that case, I would ask that you both wait, until this treaty can be drawn up. To ensure that there is a mechanism in place before we remove the marriage. When do you expect these representatives to arrive?”

 

“Any day now,” Daich answered.

 

“Then there is a festival in one week’s time. Would you be willing to wait until it is over, to ensure that everything is well and truly in place before we go through with the annulment?” Daichi looked to Terushima, then Kentarou. Kentarou nodded.

 

“I think that would be acceptable,” Terushima said. The priest smiled, his face all friendliness and joy again.

 

“Excellent,” he said, clapping his hands together. “The festival is a sight to behold, truly. You will not regret being here for it.”

 

“What festival is it?” Terushima sounded innocently curious, and it made Kentarou’s chest ache.

 

“The feast of the lovers, ironically enough,” said the priest with a laugh. “Remind me sometime and I’ll tell you the legend. As it is, I’m afraid I don’t have time now. Evening prayers begin at sundown.”

 

“Please, don’t let us keep you,” said Iwaizumi. The priest stood, bowing shallowly and smiling, and then bustled out of the room.

 

“So,” said Akaashi, leaning back in his seat. “One week.”

 

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Daichi said. “At least, not on our end. Our people should be here in two or three days at the most.”

 

“We last received word that ours were in Melas,” said Yahaba. “So, no more than four days.”

 

“Then that’s mostly settled,” said Akaashi.

 

“Is it?” Iwaizumi asked, looking at Kentarou and Terushima. “Are you both willing to wait the week?”

 

“Do we have a choice?” asked Kentarou. Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes.

 

“The priest is right,” said Terushima, unaware of the tension. “If we do it now, there’s nothing in place to take over for the marriage alliance. If we do it now we risk everything falling apart.” Kentarou could see that Iwaizumi wanted to say something, but he remained silent. Somehow, it felt worse than if he had simply come out and said it.

 

“Well, regardless, all we can do now is continue on as we have been,” Yahaba said. “You two have a private dinner with the kings tonight, so you should probably prepare for that. I’ll ask around about this festival and see what needs to be done to be ready for that.”

 

“I’ll help you,” Daichi offered. Kentarou bit back a snort.

 

“I’ll go make sure Oikawa isn’t harassing anyone needlessly,” Iwaizumi sighed.

 

“I’ll go make sure he is,” Akaashi added with a smirk. They trooped out, and Kentarou and Terushima were left alone. Kentarou lingered for a moment, uncertain. Then he stood and left the room.

 

-

 

Yuuji and Kyoutani were shown to a ‘small’ dining room - a lavishly decorated space with a table big enough for some twenty people. They were greeted by one of the kings, the one with the shiny golden hair and the smile that stretched so wide it obscured his eyes.

 

“I’m afraid neither of my husbands will be able to join us tonight,” he said as they all settled in. “An important matter came up with some of the troops and…” he trailed off, waving a hand. Yuuji had a sinking suspicion said matter involved Suga somehow, though he wasn’t about to ask.

 

“It must be useful,” Yuuji said absently, accepting a bowl of rich soup from a servant. “Always having someone to cover all contingencies, that is. Matters requiring a king’s attention are not left in conflict.” The king smiled softly.

 

“It can be,” he said. “Though, truth be told, there are times when I wish we were not kings. If we had been born simpler men, if our actions did not affect the lives of everyone under our rule, it would have been easier to simply be ourselves. To be selfish.” The king looked at Kyoutani when he said it, but Kyoutani kept his eyes trained on the table in front of him.

 

“I can see how that would be,” Yuuji said. “However, had you not been kings, it is possible that you would not have met. Isn’t it better to have the chance to know one another than to risk everything for the chance that things could have been less complicated?”

 

“Things are always complicated,” the king agreed. “Personally, I would not give up knowing my husbands for anything. However, as a king, I have to think of my people first. The tale of the lovers taught us that much.”

 

“What is the tale?” Yuuji asked. “The Poclean priest mentioned it, but he didn’t have time to tell us.” The king’s eyes grew wistful and he smiled sadly.

 

“It is the story of the founding of our kingdom,” he said. “The reason we have three equal rulers, rather than one king and his consort. But it is not a happy tale.”

 

“The lovers of Uspar were considered traitors in their time,” Kyoutani said suddenly. Yuuji looked up at him, shocked, but he was looking at the king, who nodded.

 

“They were the children of three warring clans,” he said. “They were to raise armies and meet each other on the field of battle, once and for all. But what their families didn’t know was that each of their first-borns had been been meeting in secret to foster peace. Somewhere along the way, they had fallen in love.

 

“When their families sent them out to battle for the fate of the clans, they rode out like they were told. But then when they met on the field, all three generals threw down their weapons and declared the war over. With the armies of all three clans backing them, they unified into one great kingdom, reigned by all three jointly, a tradition that continues to this day.

 

“However, shortly into their reign, things began to fall apart. What had begun as a happy love affair was now the ruling force, with thousands of lives in the balance. One lover grew dissatisfied with their role, demanding more and more of the others, shirking responsibilities. A corrupt adviser started whispering in their ear, leading them to make decisions that led to chaos and ruin. The lover had a visiting prince imprisoned for some imagined insult, and executed, leading to a horrific war. The people suffered, and the other two were left with a decision. The other kingdom was demanding the life of their third in reparation for the life of the prince. The people were demanding they be removed from power, so that they could do no more damage than they already had. The first two did not wish to be separated from their love, but they had little choice. The people were threatening revolution if the war did not cease. So, reluctantly, they sent the third lover away, to live in the remote reaches of the kingdom. Another noble from the third clan was installed in their place, a ruler but not a lover. They continued to reign for the rest of their lives, unhappy themselves, but the leaders of happy people. Now, they are celebrated once a year as a festival, but you can imagine they weren’t so popular with the people of their time. It takes great courage to choose love over duty, but great wisdom to know when to do so.”

 

The silence that followed the king’s words was heavy. It settled along Yuuji’s shoulders like a cloak, and he could not bring himself to look at Kyoutani. He stirred his soup aimlessly for a moment. When Kyoutani spoke, he nearly dropped his spoon in surprise.

 

“In my kingdom, we have a legend of the woman who became the mountain,” he said. Yuuji looked up at him, startled, but Kyoutani was watching his own hands with a strange, wistful expression on his face. “She was the daughter and sole heir of a king, ordered to marry so that her kingdom could continue to prosper. But her husband-to-be was a cruel man, who fully intended to lead the country to ruin for his own gain. She begged her father to see reason, but he was seduced by the man’s wealth and his promises of glory. He told her that if she would not marry the man, he would kill her and make him his heir in her stead. Unable to hand her people over, she agreed to the marriage, then killed her husband on their wedding night, making it look like the work of another man that he had slighted.

 

“It saved her people from the cruelty of her husband, but it also caught the attention of the kingdom to the north. Seeing that the princess was a widow so soon after her wedding, they decided to attack while there was still no secure line to the throne. They amassed an army so great that its like has not been seen on the earth since, and marched on the kingdom.

 

“The king, despairing the size of his own army, commanded his men to lay down their arms and surrender. But the princess would not let her land be taken from her, after she had fought so hard to save it. She marched alone to the north, with nothing but a sword and the white cloak her husband had given her as a wedding gift. She came to the northern border of the kingdom at just the same time as the invading armies. With her sword drawn, she stood alone in a field of snow, and prayed that she could protect her people. The gods heard her prayer, and were moved by her willingness to put her duty to her people before everything, including her own life. They transformed her into a great, insurmountable mountain. To this day, she still stands as a defender in the north.”

 

Yuuji couldn’t take his eyes off of Kyoutani. The way he had spoken, the strength in his voice as he’d told the story, it had been like nothing Yuuji had heard from him before. Kyoutani looked up at last, eyes locking with Yuuji’s, and for a moment, the world narrowed to nothing more than that one point of contact between them. He would have gone on staring forever, if it hadn’t been for a group of servants bringing the next course. The rest of the dinner dissolved into polite and slightly awkward small talk.

 

-

 

Kentarou seldom left his rooms in the following days, his mind too full of the promise he had made himself. He spoke only as much as was needed during the negotiations, letting Yahaba do the yelling and Akaashi the reasoning as much as he could. All the while, he turned the story he had told that night at dinner over and over in his head.

 

The legend of the mountain woman had been Kentarou’s favorite since childhood. His mother had always told him that it was proof that every person has a role to play, and that true love, be it for a person or a kingdom, could accomplish anything. Kentarou had always admired the woman for her dedication to her people, and her willingness to put them before anyone else. He had always wanted to be like her.

 

He didn’t feel much like her now. She had fought for her people against all odds, in the face of every trial. He wanted nothing more than to ignore all his responsibilities to them, to throw it all away and be-

 

And be what? The king had been right the night before. A ruler’s duty to his people came first. And even if it didn’t for Kentarou, it had to for Terushima. There was no perfect world where they were both free to be and choose what they wanted, and if there was, Terushima wouldn’t choose Kentarou. Terushima would explore. He would travel, go to every far-off land he could and learn everything about them. He would seek out legends and make them his own. He would turn those bright, insatiable eyes on the world and it would give up its secrets to him. And Kentarou-

 

Kentarou didn’t know what he would be, if he wasn’t a prince. He had spent his entire life preparing to take the throne, to lead his people well. There was no life for him outside of that. The world was not his to conquer the way it was for Terushima.

 

A firm, quiet knock at the door drew Kentarou from his thoughts. He turned to see Iwaizumi coming in, not waiting for a summons because Iwaizumi never did. He stood against the door, glaring at Kentarou.

 

“Have I done something to earn a lecture lately?” Kentarou asked. Iwaizumi shook his head, but he was still glaring. “What?”

 

“I’m trying to decide if you’re being incredibly wise or incredibly stupid,” Iwaizumi answered. Kentarou blinked at him.

 

“I thought you said I hadn’t earned a lecture,” he said.

 

“You haven’t.” Iwaizumi’s shoulders slumped and he pushed away from the door. With a sigh that held all the weight of the world, he dropped onto the couch across from the window where Kentarou stood and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the armrest. “But you’re going to soon,” he added, like an afterthought. Kentarou snorted.

 

“All right, you win,” he said, leaving the window at last. He shoved at Iwaizumi’s legs until they moved, giving him enough room to sit as well. “What am I going to do?”

 

“You’re going to ruin your own life,” Iwaizumi answered. “You’re going to make yourself miserable and you’re not going to get much out of it in return.”

 

“And how am I going to accomplish that?” Kentarou asked.

 

“By annulling your marriage to Terushima,” Iwaizumi replied. Kentarou stared at him, uncomprehending. Then, despite himself, he laughed. “I’m serious,” Iwaizumi said.

 

“So am I,” Kentarou snapped, all humor leaving him in a great rush. “There’s no other option here, you know that.”

 

“Of course there’s another option,” Iwaizumi said. “You’re already married. So, let the marriage stand and work out what it’ll mean for both kingdoms. Appoint Princess Kazue as your regent and go live in Theun Dral. Be happy for once, instead of just obedient.”

 

“And leave Nierva on my sister’s shoulders,” Kentarou said. “Leave her with all that pressure, when you know she wants none of it. Risk leading the kingdom into ruin, because of a flight of fancy. Abandon all my duties and what? Play pretend in some other kingdom until it all comes crashing down around me?”

 

“Okay, so we do it your way,” Iwaizumi said. “We finish setting up this happy little treaty with Theun Dral. We promise we’ll stay the best of friends, and then see each other once a decade. Have dinner and talk about this fun little misadventure, wipe our brows with relief that it all got sorted out. You and Terushima each get married and secure heirs, and you both live on forever pretending you’re better off this way. Be miserable the rest of your lives, but hey, at least it didn’t all go wrong. Does that sound like the better plan to you?”

 

“Better than the alternative,” Kentarou sighed. Ordinarily he would have argued, but this was Iwaizumi he was talking to. And Kentarou was so tired. “Better than living half a lie.”

 

“Right,” Iwaizumi said, standing up. “So instead you’re going to live a whole one.” Kentarou didn’t answer as Iwaizumi stormed out of the room.

 

There was birdsong and the sound of people working in the courtyard outside his window. The sunlight streaming through was brighter here than at home in Nierva, flooding the room with warmth rather than slicing through it like a silver knife. Kentarou had never felt so small before.

 

-

 

The festival of the lovers was not that dissimilar to the midsummer festival in Theun Dral. For all that the dances were unfamiliar and the music had a reddish-purple quality to it rather than the blues and greys of Yuuji’s home and the main dish was some sort of bird rather than fish, a festival was a festival regardless of its flavor.

 

Yuuji couldn’t remember a festival where he had been so miserable.

 

It was the last night of this grand adventure, the one that had brought him farther from home than he had ever been, the one that had shown him so many new and wonderful things. The one that had brought him Kyoutani. He couldn’t help but watch the dancers in their circle and remember a smaller one, one that Yuuji had danced in across from the surly-looking prince with a lopsided flower crown. A smile threatened the corner of Yuuji’s lip as he thought of that same surly-looking prince, cooing to the stallion the king of Ketas had given him, or hunched over a book, or arguing with Yahaba, or drooling on Akaashi’s shoulder, or-

 

“You know, it’s okay to want something.” Yuuji did not spill his wine out of surprise, but it was a near thing. The second king of Uspar gave him a half-smile before turning back to the dancers below. The other two kings were there, laughing and tripping over each other in the fray. Yuuji watched them, a small and nasty voice in the back of his mind wondering how much of their happiness was a front.

 

“To want and to have are two different things,” Yuuji said. The king chuckled.

 

“A very wise answer,” he said. “Diplomatic, thoughtful, and utter bullshit. You are making excuses, Prince Yuuji.”

 

“I’m trying to think of my people,” Yuuji said. “Isn’t that what princes are supposed to do?”

 

“Maybe,” the king admitted. “But I knew a prince once, just around your age, who tried to do the very same thing. When offered a choice between what _could_ be best for his kingdom and what _would_ be best for him, he tried to choose the former.”

 

“What happened?” Yuuji asked. The king smiled at the dancers, his expression going soft and fond.

 

“I wouldn’t let him,” he said. “I did the one thing I vowed not to, and I got in the way. I was selfish, and I made him be selfish right along with me. And it worked out, in the end. It takes great courage to choose love over duty, and great wisdom to know when to do so.”

 

“So which am I supposed to be? Very brave, or very wise?”

 

“I wish I could tell you that,” the king said. “And I wish I could offer you more time to decide. But the priests have just finished their rituals in the spring, so I’m afraid it’s time. So, unless you want someone to stall for time while you pull your head out of the clouds, you have to decide now.”

 

“Thanks,” Yuuji said. “But I think I’m good.”

 

“If you say so,” the king said with a shrug. He offered Yuuji one last smile as he wandered off to where his husbands were whispering to each other just outside of the ring of dancers. Yuuji watched them for a moment, trying to ignore the way his chest felt like it would split in two. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Daichi coming for him and he turned away from the kings with a sigh.

 

“Ready?” Daichi asked.

 

“No,” Yuuji said. “Let’s get this over with.” Daichi gave him the same sad, soft smile he’d been getting from a lot of people lately, and turned to lead the way toward the spring.

 

Yuuji could feel himself fade with every step he took away from the dancing. He did not let himself wonder what this would be like if it weren’t for the treaty and the annulment, if he and Kyoutani were just two newlyweds at a festival in a foreign land. He did not let himself remember what it was like to dance with Kyoutani, or to wake up beside him. He did not let himself feel anything at all as he stepped into the temple built into the side of a hill, the home of the holy spring of Uspar.

 

It was a beautiful cavern, awash in moonlight and coated in intricate carvings. The spring was a still and quiet pool taking up most of the space, with room for an altar between the door and it. Around said altar stood the Poclean priest, Kyoutani, and Iwaizumi, holding a large wooden case. Daichi and Yuuji joined them and they all turned to the priest.

 

“Now then,” he said, almost-smiling at all of them. “We all know why we’re here, yes?”

 

“We do,” said Daichi.

 

“Then, let’s begin.” All at once the friendly monk faded away, leaving his face stern and powerful. “The crowns,” he said. Iwaizumi opened his case, setting it on one side of the altar. Yuuji’s heart stopped, then picked up again double-time.

 

Inside were two wreaths of flowers, faded and dried, but still intact. The smell of summertime flooded the cavern, and all Yuuji could see was a dancing ring and a feast and a boy who loved a mountain. He tore his gaze away, looking at Iwaizumi instead.

 

“How-” he started, unable to finish.

 

“The headman in Pocleal preserved them,” Iwaizumi said. He pulled one crown out, carefully setting it on Kyoutani’s head. “They’re powerful symbols in Poclean culture.” He handed the other crown to Daichi, who reached up to place it on Yuuji. It felt far too heavy for a simple ring of flowers, too full of memory and what couldn’t be.

 

“The ritual is simple,” the priest said. “You gave these crowns to one another on the day of your wedding, and now you must take them back. The spring is a center of all the worlds that might have been, so it is here that you will offer the life you are giving up.”

 

At the priest’s gesture, Yuuji stepped toward Kyoutani. He took a deep breath and reached out, Kyoutani’s curls brushing his fingers as he grasped the crown. His hair had gotten longer along the journey, hanging golden and wonderful around his ears. Yuuji lifted the flowers carefully away, holding them close to his belly as Kyoutani reached up to do the same for him. They were so close, breath mingling in the quiet moon-drenched cavern. Then Kyoutani stepped away, and the last of Yuuji’s heart broke into pieces. The priest led the way to the edge of the water.

 

“Offer up what might have been,” the priest said. “Acknowledge what you are giving up, and what you are gaining. Let the spring wash you clean and new.” Yuuji knelt, and Kyoutani beside him. They did not look at each other as they both lowered their crowns into the water. The flowers scratched against Yuuji’s fingertips as the gentle tide of the pool caught them and drew them away. Kyoutani stood, but Yuuji hesitated just a moment longer, his fingertips dangling in the cool water of the pool. He was only half-aware of pushing himself to his feet, of following Daichi out of the temple and making his excuses to retire early. Until the moment his door closed behind him, his mind was still on the edge of that pool. As soon as he was alone, well and truly alone, everything fell apart. Yuuji collapsed to his knees, his face in his hands as pain washed over him, far greater than he would ever have expected simple heartache to feel.

 

He hadn’t meant to fall in love with Kyoutani. All he had meant to do was tour the neighboring kingdoms, make friends and possibly sow peace in the land. He had thought that everything would be simple, that he would come here and annul a marriage he had never intended to have and go about his life.

 

He had thought a lot of things.

 

The people of Nierva were supposed to be pretentious and arrogant. They were supposed to walk around with their noses stuck in books and never deign to think about the real world or the people in it. They weren’t supposed to be headstrong, or tender. They weren’t supposed to scowl at people to hide how fond they were. They weren’t supposed to be gentle when they touched someone, handling them like they were made of precious and delicate glass, looking at them like their obnoxious enthusiasm was something to be cherished, something to be encouraged and stoked and-

 

They weren’t supposed to be Kyoutani. They weren’t supposed to be in love with Yuuji in return.

 

And really, that was it, wasn’t it? That was the source of all their problems. Yuuji wasn’t blind. He knew why Kyoutani had been distant since their first night in Uspar. He noticed the lingering touches, the smiles as he watched Yuuji devour some new tidbit of information, the way his eyes followed Yuuji’s every move. He noticed the scowls giving way to something softer, something fonder. Kyoutani was every bit as in love with Yuuji as Yuuji was with Kyoutani, and they had just given up their chance to be together. Kyoutani hadn’t looked at Yuuji after they had offered up their crowns, because Kyoutani hadn’t been able to look. He hadn’t been able to take what he wanted, what they both wanted. But Yuuji could.

 

Yuuji could march right over to Kyoutani’s rooms - and he _knew_ Kyoutani would be there, not out in the crowds and the noise of the festival - and demand to take and be taken. He could have great enough courage for the both of them.

 

A breeze from the open window ruffled Yuuji’s hair as though praising him for his newfound conviction as he climbed to his feet. He turned on his heel, wrenching the door open. He took a step out into the hallway, and then everything turned to pain and darkness and he slumped to the ground. Dimly he heard unfamiliar voices bickering and felt himself being dragged back into the room, and then, nothing.

 

-

 

Kentarou was in a spectacularly bad mood as he stood beside the carriage, waiting for Oikawa to finish checking that all the straps and harnesses were secure. He wanted to be gone, wanted to leave Uspar in the dust and never look back.

 

He had been up all night, trying to work up the courage to go to Terushima and hoping that Terushima would do it so that he wouldn’t have to. He had resisted the urge to leave before first light, trying to give them both a little more time. As dawn had crept over the horizon, Kentarou had finally thrown open his door and stormed over to Terushima’s. He had slammed it open, a demand for answers on the tip of his tongue. He had been met with silence, an empty room. Terushima was already gone. Terushima had left, without so much as a goodbye.

 

Kentarou had been a fool to expect anything else, and he had been a fool not to slip away just as quietly. Now he was stuck, exhausted and angry, while a bothersome fluff of a king prattled on to him about lost chances and seizing the opportunity while he still had it.

 

“Prince Kentarou, you’re making a mistake,” said the king, the little one with the bouncy hair. “It’s obvious to everyone that you two are-”

 

“That we’re what?” Kentarou snapped. “We aren’t anything anymore. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s not even here. He left last night.”

 

“Prince Yuuji didn’t leave,” the king said, his brow furrowing. “I just saw his adviser, no more than an hour ago-”

 

“Then he left without him,” Kentarou muttered, turning away. “He’s gone, okay? He didn’t care enough to stay.”

 

“Or, could it be that he cared too much?” There was a hand on Kentarou’s shoulder, light and slender and strong, and Kentarou didn’t shrug it off. “Prince Yuuji cares deeply about you. He could’ve left because he didn’t want to cause either of you more pain.”

 

“It’s a bit late for that,” Kentarou muttered. The king opened his mouth, clearly ready to deliver some lecture or other, but he was cut off by Daichi tumbling into the courtyard. Yahaba darted over, helping him back to his feet while Daichi struggled for breath.

 

“Please tell me he’s with you,” Daichi wheezed.

 

“Who?” asked Yahaba.

 

“Prince Yuuji,” Daichi replied. “He’s here, right?”

 

“We haven’t seen Prince Yuuji since last night,” Akaashi answered. “Is everything alright?” All the color drained from Daichi’s face. He shook his head, holding out a crumpled paper. Yahaba took it, reading quickly. His jaw clenched tighter and tighter, and at last he looked up with a grim set to his eyes.

 

“It’s a ransom note,” he said. “Prince Yuuji has been kidnapped. The note demands that a ransom be brought to the abandoned fort to the northwest, or Prince Yuuji will be killed.”

 

People were moving around Kentarou, shouting orders and questions, organizing and springing to action. He couldn’t hear a word of it. There was nothing, nothing but the roar of blood in Kentarou’s veins and the pounding of his heart and his anger. He turned slowly, so slowly, to the carriage. Inside, secured under one of the benches, was a sword. He yanked it free and tied it woodenly to his belt. He turned again, to the stallion tied to a post nearby, tall and white and built for speed worthy of royalty. He was in the saddle before anyone noticed.

 

“Prince Kentarou-” shouted the king, but his voice was drowned out in the thunder of hooves as Kyoutani spurred out of the courtyard and into the city beyond.

 

The abandoned fort was just outside the city. Kentarou had seen it once, from the window of the library where they had negotiated the treaty, and it hadn’t seemed all that far away at the time. But now, every moment dragged on into an eternity, each eternity one step closer to Terushima’s death. Kentarou spurred the horse faster, tearing along the road out of the city recklessly. The wind whipped at his clothes and hair, his eyes stinging and hands aching from how tightly he gripped the reins. He ignored it and pressed himself closer to the stallion’s neck, as if it would help their speed at all.

 

He drew the horse up short at the base of the fort wall. He didn’t doubt that they had seen him coming, but it didn’t mean he wanted to give them any more of an announcement than he already had. Dismounting, he drew his sword and dropped the reins, not really caring if the horse stayed or went. There was nothing inside him at all, nothing but pure and absolute rage as he stepped toward the entrance to the fort.

 

There were three men waiting just inside, their own weapons at the ready. They must have been commoners, farmers or smiths who’d been handed swords and told they were soldiers. Kentarou knocked them each aside easily, not caring for mercy, only for speed. He left them crumpled on the ground as he stepped forward, toward the door of the fort’s only real building. It slammed open to reveal another man, only slightly better-trained than the first. Kentarou slammed the hilt of his sword down on the man’s skull and was moving before he even hit the ground.

 

There were no more guards as Kentarou made his way up the tower stairs, and a part of him wondered how so few men had been able to sneak into the palace and kidnap a prince. A larger part of him screamed for blood. He emerged from the top of the stairs to find an open room, the roof and most of the walls long since rotted away. Terushima was bout to a chair in the room’s center, sagging against his bonds. A single man stood over him, the sunlight streaming from behind him and making him hard to see as he leveled a crossbow at Kentarou.

 

“Not a step farther,” he said. Kentarou ignored him. “I mean it,” said the man, turning the crossbow to face Terushima instead. Kentarou stopped. “Better.”

 

“Let him go,” Kentarou snarled.

 

“The ransom?” sneered the man. “Didn’t think so,” he said when Kentarou didn’t answer. “Well, since you find yourself with no ransom and no way of disarming me without risking this one’s neck, it seems you have already lost.”

 

“I’ll be your ransom,” Kentarou said. “Let him go, and take me instead.”

 

“And why would I do that?” the man asked.

 

“Theun Dral has two more heirs to the throne,” he said. “Nierva only has one. I’m worth more to you than he is.”

 

“You might be right,” the man hummed, “if I was in this for the ransom. But since I’m more in this for the war it will start, I think I’d rather kill him, and then I might as well kill you as well.” Kentarou looked at Terushima, at the light glinting in his hair, reflecting off of the metal in his ears and on his nose and his fingers. He turned his eyes back on the man, letting his sword fall from his fingers. It clattered to the floor.

 

“Kill me first,” he whispered.

 

“What?” barked the man.

 

“Kill me first,” Kentarou repeated. “Please. Don’t- don’t make me watch him die.” The man shifted his grip on the crossbow, and Kentarou dropped to his knees. “Please,” he murmured. The man paused.

 

“You know,” he said, slowly, so slowly, his voice dripping, oozing with glee. “I think I will. Make you watch, that is. Open your eyes, little princeling, and I’ll be merciful. Open them, and I’ll make it quick.” Kentarou dragged his eyes open, locking them on the man’s. He smiled, indistinct in the severe shadow of his face. He turned toward Terushima, just as Terushima finished working his knife through the rope around his wrists and plunged it into the man’s stomach. The man stumbled back and Kentarou lunged forward, knocking the crossbow from his hands. The man stumbled back, careening toward the edge of the room. Kentarou watched, utterly still, as he fell from the tower. He stared at the spot for a moment, before a quiet noise drew his attention.

 

Terushima was hacking away at the rest of the ropes, his movements clumsy. Kentarou dropped to his knees in front of him, laying a hand over the one holding the knife.

 

“Let me,” he murmured. Terushima pulled his hand away, letting Kentarou take over the knife. He cut the rope away from Terushima’s chest, then the one around his ankles. As soon as the last of it was gone, Kentarou threw the knife aside, just in time for him to catch Terushima as he tumbled out of the chair.

 

“Kyoutani,” whispered Terushima. His voice was steady, but the rest of him was trembling. “You came for me,” he said.

 

“I thought I’d lost you.” Kentarou’s voice shook so much he could barely force it past his lips. He clutched Terushima to him, holding him so tight it must have hurt. Terushima only pressed closer. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I’d lost everything.”

 

“I’m right here,” Terushima said. Kentarou wished he could see Terushima’s face, but he couldn’t do anything but hold on to him. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

 

“I thought I had,” Kentarou breathed. “I thought- when you weren’t there this morning, I thought you had left. That you’d gotten what you wanted and didn’t want to see me again.” There was a pause, heavy and agonizing. Then, despite it all, Terushima laughed.

 

“You and I both know that’s not the case,” he said. “Kyoutani, you know better.”

 

“I know.” Kentarou was laughing too, pulling back at last so he could see Terushima properly. Terushima frowned at him, reaching up to draw a thumb across his cheek. Kentarou blinked. He hadn’t realized he was crying.

 

“I’m sorry, Kyoutani,” Terushima murmured. “I’m so sorry that I didn’t just say something sooner.” Kentarou shook his head.

 

“I wouldn’t have listened,” he said. A ghost of a smile flickered over Terushima’s face, fading the sound of men and horses reached them.

 

“Is it too late?” Terushima asked. It was so quiet that Kentarou almost didn’t hear it. He knew it was intentional; Terushima was offering him a way out. Kentarou looked at Terushima as he listened to the shouting of the men in the courtyard. The sunlight had turned him into a masterpiece, and fresh tears streamed down Kentarou’s face.

 

Kentarou made a new promise to himself as he closed the six inches between his lips and Terushima’s.

 

-

 

Really, Yuuji’s fingers were not made for this kind of work. This was delicate and careful, all fine knots and skilled twists and intricate weaving. His hands were clumsy and rough, never trained in anything as graceful as this.

 

The thorns didn’t help, either.

 

“Please tell me he’s having as much trouble with this as I am,” he muttered aloud, somewhere around the sixth time his flower crown fell apart in his hands.

 

“I checked in on him two hours ago, and he was finished,” said Daichi with a grin.

 

“Of course he was,” Yuuji muttered. He picked up a pair of flowers once more and set to work.

 

The last time they had done this, the crowns had been made for them. It wasn’t a requirement that they make their own, after all, just that they each give one to the other. But Yuuji had opened his fat mouth, had mentioned that it would be _romantic_ if they made their own this time around, so that when they were preserved and displayed, they would be everlasting symbols of their love and devotion, or some other utter nonsense. Kyoutani had blushed and grumbled about it, but apparently he’d had nothing to grumble about.

 

Yuuji muttered to himself about fiances and outdated traditions as he twined the stems of some thirty flowers together. He was still complaining as he tucked the last of the stems into place and held the wreath in his lap, trailing off as he stared at it.

 

“Your Highness?” Daichi said softly. “Are you okay?”

 

Yuuji traced a petal with the tip of a finger, feeling suddenly very small and very uncertain.

 

“Daichi,” he whispered. “This can’t be something I’m allowed to have.”

 

“Of course it is.” There was that fondness to Daichi’s voice, the same exasperation he’d had every time one of them would voice their doubts over the past several months. “Your parents and Prince Kentarou’s mother fully support this union, and the people of both kingdoms couldn’t be happier. And more importantly, Yuuji, neither could you or Prince Kentarou.” Yuuji looked up to see the warmth in Daichi’s smile and the kind light in his eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile. He dropped his eyes back to the crown in his lap, and the smile grew.

 

“Did you know this would happen?” he asked softly. “When you bribed the headman in Pocleal into the first wedding, did you know that Kentarou and I would fall in love?”

 

“When I- _what_?” Daichi hissed. Yuuji hummed.

 

“When you bribed the headman,” he said. “Don’t play dumb, Suga told me the whole story. So, did you know, or were you just hoping for the best?”

 

“Of course I didn’t know,” Daichi sighed. “But there were whispers of unrest going around, and I knew that tour wasn’t going to be enough to put them down. We needed something drastic, so when I heard Prince Kentarou would be in Pocleal that day, I went for it.”

 

“You’re a menace,” Yuuji sighed fondly.

 

“I am that,” Daichi acknowledged. “And aren’t you grateful for it.” Yuuji smiled, turning the flower crown over in his hands. By this time tomorrow he would be married again, his second wedding to the same man. He would sleep in the same bed as Kyoutani, like he had all those months before, and this time he wouldn’t feel guilty for enjoying it so much. He would have everything he hadn’t known how to want, and so much more.

 

“I am,” he said. “I truly am.”

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday Ry, you Theunian fishfucker you.
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](http://notsuchasecret.tumblr.com)


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